Losers
by DorkQueen
Summary: A collection of unrelated Amian drabbles, oneshots, and short stories. Most have a trace of a plot, some may be a bit dark, others are quirky.
1. Time Wounds and Heals

**Disclaimer: I do not own the 39 Clues series.**

* * *

Those dark amber eyes mesmerize her, as they had mesmerized her many years before.

"Amy, is that you?"

She is fourteen again and he is the source of the heat that rises to her cheeks.

"Ian. This is a pleasant surprise."

"I'll say. It's been a long time—five years?"

"Closer to fifteen, actually."

"Wow, time really flies by. How are you, Amy?"

She shrugs. Madrigal training has made her a strong woman. "I'm alright. How are you?"

"Good. Great." He smiles, a flash of white. There is a pause in the conversation. She tries not to stare at his jeans.

"So what brings you here?"

"To the zoo?" He laughs. It is a warm, genuine laugh that she has never heard from him before. She wonders what is so funny. "I'm chaperoning my son's class's field trip."

There are so many things wrong with that sentence that she doesn't even try to understand it. In fact, there are so many things wrong with this conversation, with him, with his easy smiles and natural laughs, with his clothes, and even his eyes—they are no longer hungry black fires that reach out to her. They sparkle and light up with his enthusiasm for life. He's _happy_. Who is she to take that happiness away from him? Someone has broken Ian Kabra out of his shell, someone has fixed him before she could, and she is just a fragment of his past now. _The past is best left where it is._

She makes an exaggerated gesture of looking at her watch. "I'm sorry, but I have to go. It was nice seeing you, Ian."

He reaches for her, surprising her. She tenses as her head is pressed into his chest and his warm hands hold her. He smells no longer of expensive cologne but of soap and nature. She is more than a little relieved when he lets go. "Goodbye Amy."

As she walks away, her cell phone rings. She knows who it is before she picks it up. "He remembers faces and people, but not events. And it's going to stay that way."

The man on the other end is silent for a long time. "If you're sure."

She struggles to keep her emotions in check. "He's happy," she almost snarls. "He's finally happy for once in his life. Do _you_ want to tell him that he's actually a member of one of the most vicious families in the world, he lost part of his memory in an explosion, his sister is dead, and his psycho mom tried to kill both of them? Are you that heartless, Dan?"

She takes a deep breath. "As far as the others are concerned, Ian Kabra is presumed to be dead after that deadly explosion his freak of a mother pulled."

She hangs up before her brother can reply. A pair of sunglasses is slipped onto her face, so that no one can see the tears welled up in her eyes.


	2. Cahill Conference

**Disclaimer: I do not own the 39 Clues.**

* * *

Watching her, listening to her, arguing with her, Ian wondered when Amy had gotten her confidence because she definitely wasn't the shy, dorky girl who had a crush on him in Korea.

"That was quite a speech you made," he told her after the conference was over.

"A compliment from Ian Kabra? I can't believe my ears." He wasn't sure whether she was angry or just teasing him, but the smile on her face seemed to indicate the latter. Sarcasm was another thing she seemed to have gained and wasn't afraid to use.

_Two can play a game of wits._ "I didn't say your speech was _good_. In fact, I think I heard Eisenhower Holt call your speech blasphemous after what you said about the uselessness of sports." He paused. "Of course, I don't think he even knows what blasphemous means."

"Don't be rude, Ian," Amy chided, but yet again, Ian could see a hint of a smile on her lips.

"It's not being rude if it's true."

"Don't make assumptions about people," she said. The smile had completely disappeared. "They often surprise you by what they know and what they will do."

He wondered who she was thinking of. Irina Spasky, a hostile ex-KGB agent who had sacrificed her own life to save Amy and her brother? Sinead Starling, a friend who had turned out to be a double agent and traitor?

"Oh, I learned that lesson a long time ago," he said, pulling her out of any gloomy thoughts. "I assumed you were a naïve, book-smart fool and look how wrong I turned out to be."

There was a faint blush on Amy's cheeks. Ian was ridiculously pleased with himself for still having that effect on her. He wondered if she remembered their encounters during the Clue Hunt. In the beginning, he had tried to take advantage of her obvious crush on him, but it had horribly backfired.

"You know, the rumor is that Fiske Cahill is going to step down soon," he said, changing the subject and saving the conversation from an awkward pause.

Amy eyed him with surprise. "What do you mean by soon?"

Ian shrugged. "Sometime in the next five years."

"Uncle Fiske hasn't said anything about retiring. Are you sure it's not just a rumor?"

"You'd be surprised by how often rumors turn out to be true." Ian carefully watched the redhead as he uttered his next sentence. "The rumors also say that you're first in line for his spot as leader of the Madrigals."

Green eyes widened with shock and dismay. "What? You're kidding, right?" There was a pause as Amy realized Ian Kabra _never_ "kid around". "But—but I'm only eighteen!"

"You won the Clue hunt with your brother when you were fourteen. You led the Cahills to a victory in the fight against the Vespers when you were sixteen," Ian reminded her dryly. "And somehow you've managed to persuade the leaders from all the Cahill branches to attend a conference every year. Really, being Madrigal leader pales in comparison with all your other achievements." It was truly remarkable how far the American orphans had come. In the past two years, they had risen up in eminence not only in the Madrigal circle, but in the entire Cahill family.

The incredulous expression was still there on Amy's face, but Ian noted that there wasn't a hint of nervousness. The once shy Amy Cahill had grown into a leader who accepted the roles thrust upon her without hesitation.

"And what about the Lucian branch?" she was asking. "I heard the board had a vote about whether they should elect a new branch leader, seeing that Vikram Kabra is still in hiding."

It was obvious, the way she was trying to turn the conversation on _him_. Ian felt himself grow fonder of the American girl. "Yes, that's correct. I'm one of the candidates they're considering, if that's what you're asking."

Intelligent green eyes studied him. Her next words came as a shock to Ian. "I hope you get the spot."

"Thank you." Her words had melted his heart. Ian wondered at this mutual respect that had sprung up between them. She was no longer the stuttering girl he had scorned during the Clue Hunt and he was no longer the arrogant boy who thought the world was at his feet. It was a fresh, new start. Ian couldn't ask for anything better.

"Amy, your speech was absolutely amazing!" a familiar voice screeched. The American nanny appeared, silver nosering, multicolored hair and all. It was a reminder to Ian that he would never get used to American fashion. "I'm _so_ proud of you, kiddo."

The girl's gaze drifted to Ian and her eyes widened. "Oh, sorry. Am I interrupting?"

"No, I was just about to leave," Ian said smoothly. "It was nice seeing you, Amy." He lowered his voice. "By the way, I thought your speech was brilliant."

Ian Kabra wasn't used to giving compliments (not genuine ones, anyway), but the adorable blush on Amy's face was absolutely worth it. "Until next time, then?"

Amy struggled to regain her voice. "See you, Ian."


	3. Cahill Conference Pt 2: Kabra Mansion

**Disclaimer: I do not own the 39 Clues series.**

**Author's Note: **This one's for SleepingQueen17, who asked for a follow-up on Chapter 2's "A Conference." Other requests/prompts are welcome!

**Background/Context: **Set two years after "A Conference." Ian is the Lucian branch leader, and he and Amy are unofficially officially dating. :D

* * *

The door hit the adjacent wall with a loud _thump_. If the intruder wanted to make a dramatic entrance, it didn't work as the lone figure in the room was fully absorbed in the papers on his desk.

"This whole conference—gathering—gala—whatever it is, it's an absolute pain in the arse!"

"Language, Natalie." The voice was amused.

"The catering company just called and said oops, sorry, we're going to cancel on you last minute because we're too lazy and incompetent to serve our customers. Like, what the hell?" At the lack of response from the other person in the room, Natalie's voice grew more heated. "Of course, while I worry my head off over the arrangements of a major Lucian-Cahill event tonight of which the resulting success or failure will definitely affect political relations, what is the Lucian leader himself doing? Why, it looks like he's doing the Daily Telegraph's crossword puzzle!"

"Go away, Natalie," the dark-haired boy growled. "Go rant to someone who actually cares."

"Git," the eighteen-year-old girl grumbled. She turned toward the door, as if leaving, and said carelessly, "By the way, I hired an Assistant Organizer so that I wouldn't have to do _everything_ by myself."

"What?" For the first time in the conversation, Ian Kabra looked up at the annoying, whiny girl he called sister—even now, she annoyed Ian just as much as when they were little kids. "Who? _Natalie_…" he said exasperatedly to his sister's disappearing back. With a huff, he had half-risen from his chair to chase after her when he was tugged back down by long, yet forceful fingers on his elbow.

He turned his head quickly, meeting laughing green eyes.

"Hi, I'm the new assistant organizer."

Ignoring the suddenly rapid beating of his heart as it came to life, Ian scrutinized his unheard intruder and gave a mock-frown. "You don't look very qualified for the position. I'm afraid I'll—"

Suddenly he was no longer on the black spinning chair but on the ground with a certain girl's knee pinning his chest.

"—have to fire you," Ian finished weakly. When Amy grinned down at him with a triumphant expression on her face, Ian took the chance to flip them over. He leaned down until his face was less than an inch from hers. "On the other hand, maybe you'll turn out to be useful."

* * *

"Care for a Kabra mansion tour?" he asked airily once they were both upright again. At the same time, she asked, "Were you really doing the Daily Telegraph crossword?"

Ian hid his embarrassment behind a scowl. "It's a routine."

Amy was smiling when she touched his arm. "I do the Boston Globe crossword every morning too." As Ian's expression softened, she continued, "And I'd love a tour, actually. Let's start here." Amy's eyes flitted around the bedroom, eying a few objects curiously. "A wall-sized mirror, huh?"

"I thought you were supposed to be concerned with organization and décor and whatnot, not taking jabs at other people's bedrooms."

"Actually, Natalie told me that if I lay one finger on the decoration, she'll personally chop my hands off." Amy rolled her eyes. "I'm not sure what she wants me to do, actually, other than keep out of her way. She made that _very_ clear."

Amy was rather impressed with the clean, orderly state of the room and wondered if her boyfriend could give Dan a lesson on cleaning his room—then she remembered that Ian probably had never even made his bed before, as he had servants to do it for him. Her eyes skimmed past the bare walls and lit up at the sight of a tall bookcase. She crossed the room in a few quick strides, opened the glass doors, and ran her fingers past the spines of the books.

"Oh, I love Agatha Christie. And the Hercules Poirot series is one of my favorites. Do you have all the books? I was trying to read them in order, but the library didn't have some of the earlier ones. Charles Dickens…wow, are these first editions? Ooh—" She cut herself off when strong, tan arms wrapped around her waist.

"If we start the tour now, I can show you the Kabra library," Ian murmured into her ear. Amy felt his breath against her neck. Struggling to collect herself, she managed a smile. "Okay, tour guide. Let's see the Kabra mansion."

Ian led his girlfriend—ahem, _assistant organizer_—out of his bedroom and down the third floor hallway. There was nothing much to see on the third floor, just his and Natalie's bedrooms and various guest rooms, he explained. As he walked Amy down the grand staircase to the second floor to show off the gallery and private study rooms, he briefly wondered why exactly Natalie had made Amy as the assistant organizer. The two girls weren't exactly close, despite a grudging respect between them. However, these doubts vanished when Amy turned out to be a big help. Even Natalie offered a small smile after Amy solved the catering problem and also made a few calls to set in place security protocols for the conference.

Furthermore, Ian couldn't say he minded the alone time with Amy. He wouldn't be able to spend much time with her tonight at the conference, as he had to greet guests and perform the various other boring functions of a host. Furthermore, Amy's brother and great-uncle would be there, and would no doubt watch over him and Amy like protective mother hawks.

After an hour-long visit to the Kabra library, they ended up making out under an oak tree in the gardens, her on his lap. Reddish-brown strands were flying in the wind, ticking his face, his fingers, his nose. Her own fingers were tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, tilting his head for a deeper kiss.

"How long do you think we have before Natalie comes to check up on us?" Amy breathed while Ian planted quick kisses down her jawline.

"Oh, Natalie would never dare step into the gardens," Ian murmured, pinning his girlfriend to the ground, "and risk getting her dress dirty."

They didn't notice they were approaching the top of a slope until she flipped him over and they ended up rolling down in a tangle of arms, legs, grass, and dirt. When they finally came to a stop, his white shirt was ruined and leaves were stuck to both of their heads, but they were both laughing too hard to care.

* * *

Amy wore a rather simple dress, but as far as Ian was concerned, his girlfriend looked beautiful in anything she wore and he told her that.

To which she laughed and said, "I bet you told that to all the women."

"You wound me, love." Ian decided against the kiss-on-the-hand he had given to all the other women and leaned in. As his lips brushed the soft skin of her cheek, he felt a tingle run through him. "Was that a bit more sincere for you?"

"Mhm."

* * *

While shaking hands, thanking the various Cahills for coming, and graciously receiving praise for the success of the conference, Natalie kept her gaze on the star couple in the middle of the room. Her lips curled at the lovey-dovey look on her brother's face and the sight of intertwined hands. Some later said that it was a sneer; others argued that Natalie Kabra was actually _smiling_.

Whatever it was, it didn't fade until she reached one particular young man. "I hope you had an enjoyable evening."

"Yeah, the jumbo shrimp was yummy. I think I ate, like, twenty of them." The boy ran a hand through his scruffy brown hair and lowered his voice. "Thanks, Nat, for helping me with that other thing. I owe you one."

"Do _not_ call me Nat." With a wink, the boy was gone. Natalie let out a huff, half-annoyed and half-amused. The boy had been right about one thing. He owed her for her help: pulling his gullible sister away from their home in Attleboro under the pretense of the need for an "assistant organizer" (though Natalie grudgingly admitted that Amy had turned out to be a big help) and therefore allowing _him_ to carry out whatever ridiculous scheme he had planned—probably another prank on his sister.

Natalie smiled. This meant that Daniel would have to let her choose the location of their next date. After seeing his scruffy hair and ratty black sweatshirt (it was incomprehensible to Natalie why he refused to wear a suit), she already had a place in mind: Harrods Department Store.

And who knew, maybe she could convince Ian to bring Amy too. The wardrobes of the Cahill siblings definitely needed the Kabras' help.


	4. The Color Gray

_Don't you dare look out your window, darling everything's on fire_  
_The war outside our door keeps raging on_  
_Hold onto this lullaby even when the musics gone, gone_

He doesn't know why people call her eyes green because they're not; they're gray.

He doesn't know what she's looking at, but it's definitely not him.

He's not sure if she's looking at _anything_.

He doesn't ask her if she's okay.

He doesn't ask her what she's thinking about.

He's not sure he wants to know.

He can't feel anything when she bites down on his lip.

He doesn't think he can feel anymore.

He doesn't mind the taste of blood because it distracts him from the lingering salty taste in his mouth.

He doesn't ask her why she's crying.

He doesn't tell her to stop when she puts her hands under his shirt.

He doesn't want her to stop.

He doesn't ask her how she got so good at kissing because he can't let himself—no, don't think of

Evan, Sinead, Dan, Phoenix, Jonah, Hamilton, Reagan, Natalie, Mother

He isn't supposed to be kissing her, not here, not like this.

Then again, they were supposed to be the heroes and the world wasn't supposed to end.

She doesn't care anymore and neither does he.

_Just close your eyes, the sun is going down_  
_You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now_  
_Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound_

* * *

**Italicized lyrics are from "Safe and Sound" by Taylor Swift.**


	5. Ian, What Are You Doing In My Room?

"—so believe me when I say I feel extremely horrible about doing this. But it's not you, it's me."

"Um, Ian?"

"Amy! What a pleasant surprise! Er, what are you doing here?"

"Um, this is my room?"

"Oh. Right."

"What—Hey, I heard that! Did you just slam that drawer shut?"

"No, it was the wind."

"The windows are closed."

"No, that one's opened, see?"

"But I remember closing it this morning…"

"Well, we all have a lapse in memory from time to time."

"Ian, what are you doing in my room?"

"Er, I was trying to find you?"

"What are you doing in Attleboro, anyways? This morning you said you were in New York."

"Change of plans?"

"Ian, answer the question."

"I wanted to see you, love."

"You could've just called or texted. You didn't have to come all the way up to Attleboro."

"I missed seeing your beautiful face."

"We could've videochatted."

"I thought girls found it sweet when their boyfriends traveled hundreds of miles just to see them."

"Yeah, well, those girls don't have boyfriends who specialize in lying and dodging questions."

"You wound me, love."

"Don't think I forgot what you were doing when I first came in."

"Oh, yes? What was that?"

"Delivering a whole monologue at my mirror? And I think I heard my name several times in it."

"So?"

"Talking to inanimate objects is a sign of psychopathology."

"Or maybe I'm just practicing my fantastic acting skills."

"So you came all the way to Attleboro just to practice giving a speech in front of my mirror."

"No, I told you. I came to see you."

"How did you get up here anyways? Jake and I were just in the living room and you can't get to the staircase without passing the living room."

"Pardon? Jake Rosenbloom? And you? Did I hear that correctly?"

"Stop changing the subject, Ian. How did you get up here?"

"Were you two alone?"

"I'm not telling you anything until you answer my question first."

"Fine! I didn't come up using the staircase!"

"Then…"

"I scaled the back wall, opened your window, and snuck through."

"…"

"And yes, before you ask, the speckles on the front of my shirt are dust particles and they won't come off no matter what I try. So go ahead and mock me."

"…"

"So, what happened between you and Rosenbloom?"

"Wait, wait. Why did you break into my room? You could've just gone through the front door, like, you know, a normal person."

"No, actually, I couldn't have."

"Why? I'm going to ask this one more time, Ian, and if you give another crappy answer, I'll brush all the dust from the bookcase behind you onto your head."

"That's, uh, a rather terrifying threat."

"Why. Are. You. Here."

"I, er, was looking for something of yours."

"So you _were _going through my drawers."

"Er, yes. Remember that necklace I gave you for your birthday?"

"The one that once belonged to Queen Elizabeth? Yeah, it's kind of hard to forget."

"I, er, need it back."

"…"

"See, I wanted to do give you something special for your birthday. So I may have purchased the necklace from a underground company with questionable credentials..."

"Ian. You didn't."

"…but I got called up to New York this morning and apparently the authorities are onto them, so they need it back."

"Are you in any trouble? Because Fiske might know some people who can help and I'll definitely vouch for you—"

"No, they say they won't bring me in to it if I give the necklace back. I know, I'm sorry. But I'll get you another birthday present, I promise. Something even _better_."

"No, first, you promise me that you won't get mixed up in this sort of thing again."

"I promise. Does that mean you'll give me the necklace back?"

"Obviously, idiot. I can't believe you went through all of that just to get me a necklace."

"Aren't you even a teensy bit flattered?"

"Maybe. Here, help me take it off. I can't get the clasp open."

"So, why is Rosenbloom here?"

"Oh, Jake and Atticus visit all the time. Atticus and Dan goof off by themselves—did I tell you last time they set the toilet on fire—"

"So that leaves you and Jake alone."

"Yeah. Don't give me that look, Ian. We usually spend the time doing homework together. That's why I was coming upstairs, to get my European history textbook. I should probably head back down before Jake wonders if I've been kidnapped."

"I'll go with you to, you know, help you with your homework."

"Um, okay."

"I think I'll have a little chat with Rosenbloom too."

"..."

"By the way, I really think you should re-consider the idea of getting a housekeeper. I know this phenomenal agency that has supplied the Kabra Mansion with _very _satisfactory, _highly _efficient servants."

"_Ian_. Promise me you'll be nice."

"Nice? I'm always nice. I'll have you know the Queen herself was charmed by my _impeccable_ manners."


	6. Amy Gets Ready for a Date

**I know this is kind of short and is more Cahill-esque than Amy/Ian, but it's something I came up with a while ago and it didn't feel right expanding it. And I haven't updated in a while, so here you go.**

* * *

"Is that make-up?" Dan asked, raising an eyebrow. Amy fought the urge to smack the smirk off his face.

"You're too young to wear make-up," Fiske said, frowning. Amy flushed. Before she could reply defensively, Nellie came to her rescue.

"My parents let me wear make-up when I was nine. Amy, you look _so_ pretty," Nellie gushed. "I love the skirt…and Ian will too." She winked.

"It's too short," Fiske argued, scrutinizing Amy's floral skirt. "Back in my day, any skirts that ended above the knee were considered scandalous."

Nellie rolled her eyes. "Back in your day, people still wore tailcoats and top hats." She grinned. "See, back in _my_ day, Indie and Bohemian clothing was all the rage. And everyone had piercings somewhere on their body, on their belly button, tongue, eyebrow, nose…" She touched her silver snake nosering surreptitiously.

Dan snickered. "Amy, you should get a snake nosering like Nellie's. You know, as a reminder of Cobra every time you take a breath."

"No piercings until you're thirty," Fiske told Amy hastily.

Amy gritted her teeth. "Are you guys done? Because I think I really want to leave right now."

"Just remember to be yourself," Nellie reminded her, "and I don't see how Ian Kabra can _not_ fall for you. You're amazing, smart, and pretty. You're going to seduce the pants off of him."

"Not literally, though," Fiske said, looking quite alarmed. "Amy, if he's too forward, don't be afraid to use tae kwon do."

"And then we can kick his butt later," Dan said, assuming some ridiculous ninja stance. "We'll make him sorry he ever met Amy, right, Fiske?"

"Exactly, Dan."

Amy made a funny noise. However, the doorbell rang just then, so the most she could do was shoot her brother and great-uncle glares before turning and walking out of the kitchen. Calls followed her retreating footsteps.

"Be back before eight!"

"Have fun!"

Amy opened the door just as Dan called, "Try not to fart during a romantic moment!"


	7. All Because of Nellie's iPod

**Please note that I do not hate McDonald's, Great Britain, or America. :P This is just a silly piece that I came up with a while ago and had quite a bit of fun with.**

* * *

"Americans invented _McDonald's_." The word was spat out like an anathema.

"So? It's not like Britain hasn't had their share of fast food restaurants too."

"America is the most corpulent country in the world," Ian said with disgust.

"Actually, a recent news report announced that Mexico's obesity rate has surpassed America's," Amy corrected smugly.

Ian flicked his hand, as if the fact was just a pesky fly. "Still, thirty three percent! And it's all because of McDonald's. I would rather poison myself with strychnine before I ate anything from there, and I'm sure Natalie would do the same. All that saturated fat, the high amounts of cholesterol, the hundreds of empty calories make me want to vomit."

Amy had been telling Dan the same thing for years, but now she pressed her lips tightly together and refused to agree with Ian.

"It's a conspiracy," Ian declared, gaining momentum. "You Americans are secretly spreading your obesity disease by increasing the construction of McDonald restaurants throughout the world. You're trying to weaken the militaries of other countries by making the soldiers obese so that you can take over the world!"

The patriotic debate had started when Nellie had accidentally left her iPod on the dining room table and Ian, overcome by an extreme case of boredom, had decided to look through it.

(It took him exactly four tries to crack her password. Ian claimed that it was really three tries, because he had accidentally brushed against a wrong key when Amy tried unavailingly to tug his hand away from the iPod.)

After listening to two Nicki Minaj songs and one Justin Bieber song, Ian could no longer endure what he called "the atrophic mishmash of American music" and listed the reasons why British pop music was _so much superior_.

Amy, who harbored a soft spot for Justin Bieber, immediately started defending her country's music. The argument expanded to other aspects of culture and had gotten so heated that at one point, Amy walked outside. Ian assumed she was attempting to cool off, but his triumphant expression faltered when, after the sound of a scuffle by the terrace door, Amy returned holding the 6 ft x 10 ft porch flag.

As the debate continued, Amy started using the end of the flag stick to bang on the table during passionate moments of defense of her birth country. A few times, she deliberately waved the flag so close to Ian's face so that it fluttered past his nose, tickling out a sneeze.

Annoyed and determined not to be outdone, Ian immediately called his personal servant, who was lounging in the pool outside, and ordered him to find a United Kingdom flag. However, the only one found in the region was a tiny 4 inch x 6 inch paper flag at the dollar store. Bickerduff refused to call up the Kabra helicopter and take an excursion to the United Nation headquarters to steal the United Kingdom flag, explaining that he would rather not be taken by the U.S. government for a terrorist and be subjected to Chinese water torture.

At this show of cheek, Ian turned as red as the seven red stripes on the American flag. Unfortunately, he could not fire Bickerduff, because he was the only personal servant he had brought and Ian depended on him to dress in the morning and read him a book before bed. But he did tell Bickerduff hotly that when they got home, he would have him _beheaded_.

"Aha!" Amy exclaimed, like a cat leaping upon an unsuspecting mouse that had just taken a single step out of its hole in a delusion of safety. "The British government is so autocratic that it kills innocent civilians simply for talking, hmm? And they call themselves a democracy!"

She then told Bickerduff, quite gently, that he was welcome to stay in the Cahill Mansion for as long as he wished, because in _America_, they recognized the freedom of speech as the guaranteed right of all people. In _America_, everyone was equal and there was none of that royal blood nonsense.

"Oh, everyone is equal, are they?" Ian mocked and raised an eyebrow. "Tell me now, what was the purpose of that Occupy Wall Street movement?"

And they were off again.


End file.
